


Like The Wind Through Your Hair On A Summer's Night

by ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal



Series: How To Fuck Your Sokovian Slut [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Scarlet Witch (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Breeding, Carly Rae Jepsen - Freeform, Creampie, Crushes, Daddy Kink, F/M, Falling In Love, Impregnation, Inspired by Music, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pregnancy Kink, Psionics, Sex, Title from a Carly Rae Jepsen Song, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal/pseuds/ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal
Summary: Steve likes being called "Daddy". Like, hereallylikes being called "Daddy."So when a surly Wanda Maximoff decides to call him that in the heat of a moment, the ensuing chain reaction is rather...inappropriate.Among other things.





	Like The Wind Through Your Hair On A Summer's Night

**Author's Note:**

> For Mark Hoppus, Tom DeLonge and Travis Barker, who bestowed upon me the sense of humor required to get something like this done.

//

_“You know what the best part of falling in love is?”_

_“Sex?”_

_“It’s the oral sex.”_

_\- Mark Hoppus & Tom Delonge, The Mark, Tom, And Travis Show (The Enema Strikes Back!) _

//

  _ **(I Swear To God This Isn't A Marley Brinx Porno / Kinks On The Breakfast Table / Daddy At The Bar / Something Something Field Of Wildflowers / Being A Good Father / Let's Talk This Out / No, Wait, It Is A Marley Brinx Porno / The Cuck Stops Here)  
**_

//

It began on a Wednesday morning.

Still sleepy, hair a mess and in her pajamas, Wanda Maximoff padded downstairs into the New Avengers Facility’s common room, grabbed a box of Lucky Charms, the nearest bowl, and all but collapsed into her chair. She was hungry, and sleepy, and it was going to be another long day of training, supervised by the world’s most authoritarian taskmaster, Natasha. Lifting the box up, the sleepy Sokovian tilted it, eagerly, well, as eagerly as someone operating on maybe four hours of sleep and possessing the reflexes of the world’s most lethargic sloth could manage, awaiting the rush of cereal into the ceramic container. Instead, the box was plucked out of her hands like an eagle would snatch up it’s prey, which had the now-annoyed woman looking for the culprit.

“I think you need something more filling than bad cereal, kid.”

Because _of course._ Steven Grant Rogers, leader of the New Avengers, America’s Golden Boy, The First Avenger, Supersoldier Extraordinaire and the most mother hen-esque man out there, was the culprit. Removing the box from Wanda’s possession, Steve also scooped up the bowl in question, of which Wanda belatedly realized that she hadn’t even accompanied it with a spoon. Pushing aside musings on how she needed to spend more of her time sleeping and less of it watching bad rom coms with Rhodey, Wanda opted to go with the tried-and-true strategy of mouthing off to one’s superior.

“And what exactly do you have in mind, _Daddy?"_ She asked, in that kind of voice that surly teenagers whose estimated life spans have suddenly gone from decades to seconds often used with their parents.

Somewhere out of view of the grumpy young woman, Steve stiffened. The word _Daddy_ bounced around in his head like the world’s most bouncy ball, and one could be forgiven if the rest of his body defaulted to autopilot while his mind focused itself on discussions related to that particular word.

_Daddy._

Steve was no stranger to the word, he’d heard it many, many times before, but he’d never had reason to use it himself. After all, his father had died before he was even born, and all he’d had was his mother, before life had seen fit to take her away too. He’d heard others use it, in his long, long walks across New York in the days after his defrosting, and during that timeframe spent working in DC before HYDRA and Bucky and Ultron and-

“Well, Daddy?” Went the agitated voice of the sleep-deprived kid-, no, _Wanda,_ and Steve’s mouth took independent action.

“I’ll make you something instead.” Enunciated the mouth of the supersoldier, and the rest of Steve’s body promptly processed the order and began to move of their own accord, while his mind continued to mull over the two-syllable-five-letter-word that was metaphorically eating him up inside.

Wanda had called him _Daddy._

Admittedly, it had clearly been some kind of taunt, no doubt brought on by lack of sleep and him deciding that an Avenger should really not be eating _just_ cereal before going through Natasha’s Mulan-Inspired Training Course From Hell, but he liked that word. It reminded him a life he’d never had, being mentored by a father figure who he could look up to, someone he could draw inspiration from. To him, Joseph Rogers had been nothing more than words on a gravestone, a spot in a graveyard to lay flowers on and a name brought up when others compared him to the deceased progenitor of his form, for good or for ill, usually both.

It reminded him of a life he’d lost. He’d seen the photos of families in the pockets of the soldiers he’d met during his time in the War. How some talked of the wife and children they’d left behind, how he knew from experience that many of those who spoke fondly of their beloved with stars in their eyes would never see them again. It reminded him of how he’d wanted that life, with Peggy, before he drove the plane into the ice and she moved on, living out the life they’d planned with someone else. She married, had children, raised them and lived her life while he drifted aimlessly, entombed in the frozen seas.

It reminded him of the days he’d wandered the streets of New York, and later, Washington, seeing families and how happy they were, while he was all alone, everyone he knew dead or aged beyond recognition like Peggy or brainwashed and coming at him with a knife like Bucky-

-the sizzle of cooking meat brought Steve back to the present. Looking down, he saw that his body had, during his recollections, apparently decided that hot dogs, eggs and toast were the way to go for breakfast, and, going by his mouth’s words, at least some of this was meant for Wanda.

 _Kid._ He thought, glancing back at the woman in question, who had apparently slumped over on the table, content to doze while he prepared food for her. Deciding to make enough for himself as well, Steve pushed his recollections and musings out of his head and focused.

He’d promised Wanda breakfast, after all.

//

“Here you go, kid.”

A plate, laden with three hot dogs, eggs over easy, a piece of toast and some cheese was set down in front of the dozing Sokovian, and Wanda jerked up, in time for a spoon and fork to be set down before her fingers, along with a glass full of water. “Eat hearty.” Steve said, sitting opposite of her with his own plate, which mirrored hers in food, if significantly larger in quantity.

And so, they ate.

Wanda had to admit, this was _way_ better than her original plan for breakfast. Her initial agitation with Steve faded away in light of his cooking, and by the end of breakfast, she found herself in a much better mood than earlier. “Thanks, Steve.” She said, after she’d finished washing her dishes and setting them to dry.

“Anytime, kid.”

Watching Wanda walk off to go brush her teeth and, presumably, shower, gave Steve the impression that she was his unruly teenage daughter, who had just been placated by a healthy application of a tasty breakfast. He didn’t mind her decision to call him _Daddy,_ he rather liked being addressed with the word. Very much so, in fact. He was interrupted by the sound of another chair being pulled up, and he saw Sam, sitting down at the table. The man was in his pajamas, and it occurred to Steve that he was still standing at the counter, with the recently-used frying pan and toaster still out.

“Baby hungry.” Sam said.

Steve’s laughter woke up Natasha.

 //

It happened again, this time in a club.

Now, clubs are many things, they are an excellent source of intelligence. They are a good place to get drunk. They are a good place to find someone to mash naughty bits with. They are a good place to start a fight. Though, at the moment, Natasha Romanov was the one doing the ‘intelligence gathering’ aspect of clubbing, while Sam Wilson and James Rhodes were busy doing the second part. And no one one was doing the third part, except, perhaps the weirdos in the corners of the club and the ones who ‘needed to use the bathroom’. And she hoped the fourth aspect would stay the fuck away.

Now was not the time for that kind of thing.

As she conversed, in low tones, of course, with the local intelligence operative liasing with the Avengers on that particular evening, the redhead’s ears alerted her to a scene going on over near the dance floor. Wanda was...being accosted. In that kind of way that only drunk and/or horny men were often want to do, and in this case, it was probably both. As their youngest member, Wanda was generally the wearer of the ‘wild teenage party girl’ disguise, which was probably why the man accosting her looked the part for ‘annoying entitled prep boy on spring break’.

“I’m sorry…” Wanda said, in that delicate, little tone of voice she reserved for when she was doing her ‘party girl’ act. “But I really shouldn’t, I’m just here to have a good time by myself-” The other man said something that he probably shouldn’t have, and Wanda’s face scrunched up in the kind of way usually reserved for when one stepped on something particularly disgusting. “Well, that’s not very nice.” She said, and the simplest way of saying ‘please go away’, also known as a slap, was employed.

Wishing that she could intervene, but a bit busy at the moment, Natasha was about to discreetly signal to Sam that maybe he should take care of the issue, when she spotted the incoming force deterrent of Steve

He could handle it, Natasha decided, and went back to work.

//

Off in a corner of the club, Steve sipped on his drink and waited for trouble.

Or success. Whichever came first. It usually ended up being trouble. Mainly because trouble was the more punctual of the duo, because success was a lazy bastard who only showed up after that thing we call ‘hard work’ had been done, while trouble popped in wherever and whenever it pleased. Sort of like Tony Stark, when he was horny and drunk and entirely too interested in the concept of ‘anal invasions’, which, to Pepper’s joy and/or dismay, was something happening a bit more frequency than usual. Returning to the supersoldier doing his best impression of a dude enjoying a night out, Steve downed his drink, paid for another, and downed that one too. Slowly, of course. He’d found out the hard way that doing anything short of downing shots of Asgardian beer with Thor or drinking the entire contents of a bar _at once_ didn’t really do much, and so the most he was getting out of these things was a little tingly sensation in the back of his head that quickly went away.

And then, in the chaos of the club, he heard it.

Wanda’s voice, in the _distressed Wanda_ tone. Shooting to his feet, discreetly, of course, Steve began meandering towards her position, where he saw a man, smashed out of his mind or whatever passed for said cranial station anyways, in the middle of attempting to fondle the brown-haired woman. Deciding that this could not be allowed to continue, Steve walked over to the man, placed a hand firmly on his shoulder, and spun him around.

“Pardon me, but are you fucking with my kid?” He asked, putting on his _Serious Steve_ face.

“Daddy, I can handle this myself-” Went Wanda, clearly attempting to play along, when Mr. No Sense Of Personal Space decided to reply to his somewhat cordial question with a knuckle sandwich. Ducking around it, Steve did what any man raised in Brooklyn would do when greeted in the universal manner of “fuck off so I can get back to being a douchebag, please”. He caught the fist, punched the man in the nose with one of his own, spun the now bleeding jackass around, and shoved him into the arms of the nearest bouncer, who had seen the commotion and come to pay a visit as most people paid to protect their establishment from weirdos, miscreants and in this case, douchebags, were want to do. Now free of that little issue, Steve grasped Wanda’s arm and hauled her back towards his table. Sitting her down, he began checking her over for injury. “You okay, kid?” He asked, and Wanda gave a series of rapid-fire nods.

“I’m okay, Daddy.” She said, giving him a sincere look of feigned daughterly interest.

“Alright, get back out there and have fun, kid.” He said.

“Yes, Daddy.” Wanda said, in that slightly-sarcastic tone of voice of hers, before she stepped back out onto the dance floor. She wasn’t his kid, but dammit, he was really liking being addressed like that.

 _Daddy._ God, he liked the idea of being a father, however unconventional it was.

But that was just a dream. A nice dream, but just a dream.

He signaled for the strongest thing he could get, and downed it.

//

“Cute, isn’t it?”

Sam’s voice had Steve turning in the direction the man was gesturing at. From their perch atop the terrace, gazing down at the park, Steve saw exactly what Sam was talking about. Families, and a lot of them. He could see parents playing with their children, or eating with them, doing things that, in another lifetime, he would’ve done.

“Yeah.” He said. “That’s what we’re fighting to protect.”

Sam gave a nod. The winged Avenger was content to remain where he was, winding down from their long run through the city. “You ever wonder what it’d be like, to be one of those families down there, having a picnic, or playing a game of catch with the dog?"

“Sometimes.” Steve said. _Actually, it’s more like all the time._

“Pardon me, soldier boys, but do either you have a band-aid on you?” Natasha’s voice caught Steve’s attention, and he turned around in time to see the redhead appear, one slightly banged up Wanda in tow. “Junior here took a fall, scraped her knees.”

“It’s not that bad…” Wanda said, even though there was blood coming down from the scrapes in question. Sam was moving immediately, bandages in hand, where he’d gotten those from being anyone’s guess, and, for some reason, after having Wanda sit down, he handed them over to Steve.

“Gotta hit the head. You mind showing the ladies how you treated injuries back in the time of the dinosaurs?”

Steve laughed. And, with Sam making his exit, he began to tend to the scrapes on Wanda’s knees. “How’d this happen?”

“Didn’t see the root sticking out of the ground.” Wanda murmured sheepishly.

“Gotta be more careful, kid.” Steve said. “Reminds me of the time Bucky and I were out at Coney Island and tripped over some old lady’s leg ‘cause he was trying to get to the Cyclone line first. Twisted it pretty bad, had to go home after that, my mom had words with me because of that. Fortunately, yours isn’t that bad. Just a few scrapes.”

“Didn’t you throw up on that ride?” Wanda asked.

“It was one time!” Steve hastily said.

Setting the last bandage into place, Steve gave one of Wanda’s shoulders a squeeze and helped her back onto her feet. “You should be good to go, kid. Take it easy.”

“Thanks, daddy.” Wanda said, in the tone of voice that suggested she was rather grateful for his assistance.

Behind them, Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Daddy?” She asked. “I suppose it fits, considering how mother-henish you’ve been acting.”

Steve rolled his eyes and smiled. “Oh, not you too.”

“Yes, me too.” Natasha said, giving him a little, sly grin.

Wanda laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound that Steve had ever heard.

//

On a Friday evening, it came to a head.

Wanda was...tired. Not physically, though she was approaching that side of things fairly quickly, but mentally. She was tired of Steve. Well, not as in the _I can’t put up with Mr. Buff Shield-Slinging Muscle Man_ kind of way, but in the _Would Mr. Specimen Please Stop Referring To Me As Kid_ kind of way. You see, Wanda Maximoff, for lack of a better word, _liked_ Steve Rogers. She liked him in _that kind_ of way, and if he would kindly stop seeing her as some kind of surrogate kid to mentor and more as someone to _have_ kids with, that would be great, thank you very much.

Overly naughty implication of Little Miss Maximoff’s plans for the future aside, the point was, she was more or less done with Steve constantly referring to her as _kid_ and treating her as such. She understood his pain, she really did, but _god-fucking-dammit,_ Captain Feathersword Who Loved To Dance really needed to knock up a woman or adopt the contents of a whole orphanage or something because the way he was going, he was gonna start mothering Sam. Or Rhodey. Or Vision. Or, god help him, _Natasha._

Well, more so than he usually did, anyways.

And so, it was, on this beautiful-ish Friday evening, that Wanda Maximoff found Steven Grant Rogers, seated at the dining table, staring into that compass of his. Deciding that maybe _not_ interrupting him was the best decision, Wanda instead watched from a distance as he stared into the compass like it held all the secrets of the universe. And, because she was a curious woman, she latched onto his thoughts. And listened. She caught glimpses of a world that once was and yet never was, all at once. She heard the voice of a woman, saw flashes of a house and a home that had never been built, never been tread in, and heard the sound of little pattering feet and joyful laughter. Noises she herself had once made, a long time ago, before the bombs fell and _Stark_ happened and-

“Wanda? What are you doing there?”

Eyes widening, Wanda’s mind ran through a number of solutions, most of which involved some form of hexing Steve, which was something she’d _never_ do. He trusted her. She trusted him. And he was genuinely curious why she was nearby. So, with a little sigh and an internal reminder to seek out Natasha for further stealth training, Wanda stepped forward and improvised. “I was just winding down for the night when I saw you.” She said. “You didn’t look like you wanted to be interrupted.” She took a seat next to Steve, pulling up close to him and giving him a concerned look.

Shutting his compass, Steve turned to face Wanda. “I was just thinking.” He said. “About some stuff from my past.” He gave her a little shrug. “It’s nothing to worry about, kid.”

“There you go again.” Wanda said, drawing Steve’s attention. “Calling me kid.” She added, when the look on his face became slightly offended, slightly confused. “You keep calling me that.”

“Well, when you’re my age, you kind of consider everyone younger than you to be a kid.” He said. “Besides Thor and Buck, everyone’s a lot younger than me by a wide margin. Even Stark.”

“Mentally or physically?” Wanda asked.

“Both.” Steve said, a smile appearing on his face. “But back to the topic at hand. You were saying something about me calling you kid?” He asked, shifting the conversation away from thoughts of the Tin-Plated Drunkard Mechanic With An Anal Fixation and back towards what Wanda had been initially talking about.

“It’s something I’ve wanted to bring up to you, yes.” Wanda said. “I, well...it’s-”

“Annoying?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Well, yes, but actually no, not exactly.” She responded, flushing a bit. “I do admit that I’d kind of find it a bit...annoying, though I do find it attractive to some degree.” She gave him a little smile of her own. “It’s nice to know that you care, but...I want to be more than just your protectorate, for lack of a better word.”

“Wanda…” Steve began. “You’re an Avenger, yes, but you’re also the youngest, and no, Vision doesn’t count.” He shifted in his seat a bit, shuffling and fixing her with a bit of a paternal glint in his eyes. “You remind me of some of the kids I saw in the war, and I just can’t really help but try to protect you.”

“And it’s because you’re not a father.” Wanda said, causing Steve to go very, very still. “The day we fought in the salvage yard, when I put that vision into your head...I saw your deepest desires. All of them.” She looked away from him. “In the days since, I’ve felt your thoughts and seen your dreams of wanting to have a family.”

When he gave her one of _those_ looks, the _how do you know oh wait I forgot who I’m talking to what an idiot am I_ kind of look, she clarified a bit further. “When you sleep and I’m still awake, it’s all I can hear from you when I pass by your room. Or when we’re having movie nights and watching something sappy, like those family movies Sam likes to watch.”

“Fuck.” Steve muttered, looking away from Wanda. “I’m sorry, kid.” He said. “I don’t mean to burden you with those kinds of things-”

“What if I could help?” Wanda asked.

Steve stared at her, blue eyes flickering in the dim lighting of the room. She could sense shock and curiosity and desire in the back of his mind, and, on instinct, she reached out and took his hand. “Steve... “ She said, brushing a thumb over the skin of his fingers. “I could give you your greatest desires.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You like being called _Daddy,_ don’t you?”

Steve stiffened. His breath hitched. “You like that word.” Wanda mused, the grip on his hand tightening a bit. “You like to be called _Daddy_.” He nodded, and the corner of Wanda’s lips turned up in a little smile. And then, because she had thoroughly run out of patience or anything even remotely resembling patience, she leaned forward, and pressed her lips against his.

“Take me to bed.” She whispered. _“Daddy.”_

//

Tossing open his door with all the grace of a man about to get some, that is, to say, absolutely none whatsoever, Steve pulled Wanda inside, shut it with enough force to rattle a nearby dresser, and promptly pressed her against it. His lips collided with Wanda’s for the umpteenth time that evening, and they hadn’t even been in...whatever the hell it was for more than five minutes.

Practically tearing his shirt off, Wanda craned her neck upwards and let Steve plant a series of kisses along the exposed patch of skin. “Oh, daddy-” She gasped, arching her back and taking a step forward, just in time for Steve to press her back against the door

“Mine.” He said, touching her cheek with a firm thumb. _"M_ _ine._ ” He repeated, slamming his lips into hers.

Deciding that pomp and circumstance could wait and that the main event of the night needed to start happening _now,_ Wanda began fumbling at Steve’s pants. Her fingers occasionally brushed against his length, already nice and hard, because calling him _Daddy_ had apparently been just the thing to set him to “fuck Wanda Maximoff” mode, and for his part, he fumbled at her clothes with similar desire. Probably for the best that she’d gone with something simple. Anything more complex probably would’ve made him just elect to rip it off. As it was, the old shirt she was wearing was pulled off almost immediately, and her pajama pants were yanked down just enough that if Steve wanted to take her against the door, all he had to do was yank her panties down as well and he would be able to do just that. Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Steve hooked a finger into the waistband of those lacy little things and pulled them down. Shimmying out of his pants and the accompanying boxers with the help of a minute burst of psionic energy, Wanda gave an approving hum when he took what he wanted, pressing his cock against her wet cunt.

“Take me, daddy.” She hissed, and that was all the permission he needed.

With a bump of the wood, Steve took Wanda against the door, cock sliding inside of her cunt with about as much preamble as the event would’ve demanded, in this case, a long, throaty moan from the Sokovian. “Steve-” She gasped, and he pressed his lips against hers.

“It’s ‘daddy’.” He said, giving her a little smile. “‘Cause you’re all mine, Wanda. All mine.”

He wasn’t rough, but he was _firm._ Wanda, for lack of a better word, was trapped against the door, unable to do much but squirm and moan as Steve thrust into her. Her fingers flared with psionic energy, the red fabric-altering dynamism vanishing as Steve’s hands came up to grasp her wrists and firmly hold her in place.

“Daddy.” She gasped again, squirming with every thrust. “More, daddy-”

Releasing her arms, Steve’s fingers went back down. One roamed at the edge of her hips, reaching around and running along the curve of Wanda’s ass. The other one went northwards and danced along the curvature of her breasts, pressing a thumb against a vulnerable tit. “God, Wanda…” Steve whispered, kissing her again. “You’re so perfect.” He pressed his lips against her cheek, listening to her whispered plea of _Daddy,_ reveling in the word. “No one else will ever have you. Just me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, _Daddy_ .” Wanda responded, her free hands grasping his cheeks and pulling him into another, hot, searing kiss. “I want to be yours, forever.” She said, kissing him with feverish devotion. “Take me, claim me, _breed me,_ I’m yours.” And with that, she pulled a layer of psionic energy unto herself, keeping him in place and preventing him from leaving.

Not until his work was done.

Steve, for his part, didn’t really seem inclined to do that thing called leave, and as he wasn’t the kind of person to be doing the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am thing shtick that had been many the bane of a horny frat boy on Spring Break, he kept thrusting. His fingers began to dance along the small of Wanda’s back, caressing the skin of her neck, and he thrust ever onwards, seeking to cum inside the woman who called him _Daddy._

“Wanda-” Steve gasped, kissing feverishly at the Sokovian. The feel of her wet heat around his cock was addicting, he could thrust into her forever and it would never be enough. He drank eagerly of her taste, that sweet scent that was hers and hers alone. And his fingers danced along skin that was soft, supple, entwined in hair that flowed gracefully around him like water in a river.

“Show me what you want, Daddy.” Wanda moaned, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. “Show me everything.” Psionic tendrils swept up from around her lithe digits and swept into his mind. Steve let everything out. His dreams of fatherhood, of having someone to love, to care for, to be at his side, thoughts upon thoughts flowed into Wanda’s mind. She caught visions of herself, belly swollen with the promise of a family. A ring glistening on her finger. A house in the suburbs, the words _wife, mother, lover_ echoing in her mind. The life he wanted for them both...it was beautiful.

“I’m not on birth control.” Wanda whispered, catching the way that his cock twitched with excitement at her words. “You could knock me up.” She said, giving him a smile, a teasing one at that. “Cum inside of me, Daddy, and I’ll make you a _real_ Daddy. We can have kids, as many kids as you want, we can have it all.” She kissed him again, over and over.

“Everything?” He asked between kisses, breathless, heart racing.

“Everything.” Wanda said, drawing him back in. “Put a ring on my finger, knock me up. Steve, _please_ .” Steve moaned. His lips came crashing back into Wanda’s. She kept speaking, pouring visions of herself into his mind while she whispered hotly into his ears. “Come on, Daddy.” She gasped. “Cum inside me. Cum inside me and claim me. Make me have your kids, _our_ kids. Please-"

“Fuck-” Steve bit out. “I’m gonna-”

“Do it, Daddy. Cum inside of me. Make me a mom. Claim me, claim me, _claim me daddy-”_

With a cry of delight, Steve came. He kissed Wanda, hard, knocking her back into the door with a thump as he lost himself and peaked inside of her, shooting his cum deep inside of her. She moaned at the sensation of being filled, and the waves of emotion emanating off of Steve in the throes of his orgasm drew Wanda in, pushing her into one of her own. Over and over, he thrust, each and every movement drawing more and more cum out of him. His sperm poured into Wanda’s unprotected pussy, the thought of knocking her up spurring him ever onwards. His cock twitched inside of Wanda’s cunt again and again, his lips pressing against hers over and over, as he finally did what he’d always wanted to do and claimed the young, fertile woman for himself.

Wanda was his...and he was hers.

There was no greater realization, no sweeter reality than that, the thought of them being joined, being together, being _united._ And slowly, inevitably, he came away from his pleasure, from that sweet addiction that had drawn him in so. He gently pulled out, a faint noise of want emanating somewhere in the void. As the world came back into focus, he found himself staring into hazel eyes, ragged breaths emanating from the woman in front of him, and finally, after an eternity of bliss, an eternity of desire and pleasure and want and need, she spoke.

“Steven…”

Such a beautiful voice, attached to a beautiful woman.

Steve’s fingers touched Wanda’s cheek, and he found himself kissing her again, none of the heated passion or desire driving it. Just love. Pure love. “Wanda…” He whispered back, savoring her name like the sweetest of honeys.

“I’m yours…” She whispered, kissing him again. “All yours.”

He cradled her in his arms, returning the kiss with one of his own. “I’m yours.” He mirrored, leading her towards the bed, where they lay down together and he took her back into his arms, touching her skin and basking in the beauty that was Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda pulled the sheets over them.

Turned out the light.

Pressed her skin against his.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

And their lips met.

//

Music woke them up.

Sitting up in bed, Steve and Wanda locked onto the source of the noise.

One Bucky Barnes, guitar in hand and wearing the smuggest grin ever.

 “Sweet home Alabama…” Sang the long-haired man.

A burst of red threw him out the window, and yet, it did not stop the song.

“...Where the skies are so blue….”

There was a crash.

“...Sweet home Alabama…”

//

_Eyes wide, like you've never seen the ocean never seen the tides_

_No hope, now you're seeing things that you'd lost sight of_

_Taking off, got your hands in the air and you're feeling alright_

_Gold vines, glistening on my skin for you_

_Baby I'm speeding and red lights, I'll run_

_What I got you need it, and I'll run to your side_

_When your heart is bleeding, I'm coming to get you_

_\- Carly Rae Jepsen_

//

**Author's Note:**

> So it's like someone asked me if I could do a story involving Steve and Wanda with a Daddy Kink and I was like "sure fuck it let's do that" and then I was also like "but I want some love and some fatherhood-pining" because I've been listening to Carly Rae Jepsen for like three days in a row and I get all sappy because her music is so fucking beautiful and perfect.
> 
> Bucky's okay BTW. He probably just landed on Fury or something. 
> 
> I mean he's not gonna be okay when Fury wakes up, but at least he stuck the goddamn landing.
> 
> And where the fuck did he get a guitar?
> 
> 10/11/19 - Updated, reformatted, among other things.


End file.
